


In Their Defence

by LinguistLove_24



Category: Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: Elections, Gen, Meet and Greets, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 17:05:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11582436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LinguistLove_24/pseuds/LinguistLove_24
Summary: "Like so many other personal stories and friendships tucked away in her arsenal, it would be one she leaned on for strength when she felt depleted. In Shayla's defense, she would stand up."





	In Their Defence

**Author's Note:**

> Set '16. Pre election
> 
> 100% fiction.
> 
> As a member of the LGBTQ community and someone who has a more severe form of the condition mentioned in this story, this one is pretty personal and ideas centered around similar plots to this have been swimming in my head for a while. I'm quite happy with the end result, so I hope some of the rest of you will be as well. 
> 
>  
> 
> PPS. Though I've not had time to respond, I really appreciate all the lovely comments and am happy to be back for good! ;) x

**In Their Defence**

 

Standing on the sidelines of an outdoor rally where she'd finished speaking just moments ago, Hillary took a swig from the top of her water bottle and attempted not to focus on the grossly inconvenient beads of sweat dripping off her and cascading down her back. Bill, Chelsea, Barack and Michelle had all formed a sort of protective cocoon around her and were standing mere paces away, flanked by a horde of Secret Service that tailed them everywhere, but was even larger in situations like these.

 

 

“You okay?” Bill sauntered up to her and easily flung an arm over her shoulder. She shrugged it off without malice and moved to clasp his left hand so as to lace their fingers together. “You were incredible.”

 

 

“You always say that,” his wife chuckled.

 

 

“Yeah, well, you're usually always incredible,” he countered with a wink and toothy half smile.

 

 

“Thank you.” The heat radiating off of her seemed to move lower and nestle itself between her thighs as she relished his praises.

 

 

“Seriously though, you okay? I hope you're drinking enough, it's hot as hell out here.”

 

 

It was. She'd expected mid July to be hot, but six thirty in the evening saw temperatures still sweltering.

 

 

She took another long gulp of liquid just to placate her husband. “Yeah, I'm fine, just needed to break for a minute from all the handshaking and selfies.”

 

 

Bill nodded. “Take all the time you need, Barack and Michelle can work a crowd with the best of 'em.”

 

 

Hillary half smiled as she gazed far off into the distance, where Barack had ventured away from their group, flanked by his own posse of protection, to engage with the masses. He smiled, signed tee shirts, high fived people older than herself and warmly embraced young children. Gaze regaining focus, she straightened her posture before pointing in the direction of the young woman who had been permitted to park her wheelchair closest to the stage, becoming increasingly impassioned as Hillary had spoken.

 

 

“Is that the one who was situated closest to you?” Bill asked her, having followed her eyes and taken in where they'd settled.

 

 

“Yes,” Hillary nodded. “Her poster was fabulous.”

 

 

“It really was,” Bill affirmed.

 

 

Whenever something was said on Hillary's part that resonated or struck a chord, the young woman waved her big, bright, glitter covered poster board as high as was permitted from a sitting position, and the words “Minorities For Hillary: In their defence, we stand up!!” stared the presidential nominee in the face.

 

 

Smiling at the recollection, she gestured toward an agent. “That young lady over there with Barack, can we find out what her story is, please?”

 

 

“Of course, Ma'am,” the agent responded. “Give me two minutes.” Mumbling something incoherent, he waited for an answer from an official higher up to come through his earpiece, then walked with purpose toward the crowd surrounding Obama.

 

 

///

 

True to his word, not much more than two minutes later, the agent had arranged for the young woman to meet Hillary in the flesh at Madam Secretary's personal request. Michelle, who had moved to mingle with her husband's crowd, walked the distance back to the former Secretary of State alongside the wheelchair, which, the First Lady noted with surprise, the supporter drove more efficiently than many acquaintances she knew who had cars.

 

 

“You're pretty good at that,” Michelle piped up, laughing, tongue playing through her teeth.

 

“Ah, lots of practice, that's all,” the woman, who had just turned twenty two and whose name had been disclosed as Shayla, replied with a smile. “Been driving since I was four.”

 

 

“Long time,” Bill said, eyes sparkling over Shayla's infectious and perfectly white smile. “It's nice to meet you.”

 

 

“You too,” Shayla said emphatically. Her eyes wandered again over the forms of the many agents abuzz around them. “This is crazy, I definitely never thought I'd be here right now. I almost didn't come. My roommate's car broke down, so I wasn't sure I'd have a ride. Thankfully another friend of mine came to the rescue at the last minute.”

 

 

“I'm really glad you got to come,” Hillary told her genuinely.

 

 

“Thank you, was really important for me to be here.”

 

 

“Can I ask the nature of your disability?” Hillary inquired, tilting her chin in the direction of the handmade “Minorities for Hillary” sign that was now half rolled up on her lap.

 

 

“Absolutely,” Shayla answered easily, having done so a million times before. “Cerebral palsy.”

 

 

“Ah,” Hillary nodded. “How early were you diagnosed?” The former First Lady was aware of it being a condition one was born with, but knew it could often go undetected, sometimes as long as eighteen months. Shayla became even more visibly relaxed, happy to discuss something so close and personal to her with a woman so well versed and educated on the important issues.

 

 

“Almost two years old,” she said. “I was a late one. I was given up for adoption and my adoptive parents were in denial for a long time that anything was out of the ordinary.”

 

 

“I hope you're getting support now?” Michelle piped up from her position a few paces back.

 

 

“I did for much of my life after the diagnosis.” Shayla nodded in the affirmative, still smiling, but Hillary noticed the smile had gone from bright and happy to slightly wistful. “Until I came out and they all but disowned me for being gay.”

 

 

Casting a sideways glance at Michelle, Hillary could tell by the look on her face that the younger woman's heart was shattering in sync with her own.

 

 

“I'm very sorry that happened to you,” the incumbent First Lady told her gently, careful to be sure her tone was genuine and without pity.

 

 

Shayla shrugged. “It is what it is.” Not missing an opportunity to stop the mood from erring on the side of pitiful, she flashed her mesmerising smile. “I'm an adult now. Live with people who love me, have gotten to a place where I am as fully independent as my circumstances will allow, and have a wonderful partner. I'm okay.”

 

 

“Good for you,” Hillary said, impressed and proud of a person whom she hardly even knew all at once.

 

 

“Thank you. We're actually getting married next month. Thank your husband again for me, will you?” Shayla let out a light laugh as she gazed toward Michelle. “I can finally marry the love of my entire life thanks to him.”

 

“I will do.”

 

 

No other words felt worthy or necessary.

 

 

“I'm so sorry, but I should go,” Hillary spoke up reluctantly, not wanting to in the least but feeling an agent tap her on the shoulder and try to coax her away in a different direction. “It was really nice to meet you. You are an amazing spirit, thank you so much for coming and for your support.”

 

 

“No problem,” Shayla replied in understanding. “Pleasure was mine entirely. I really hope you win. Much as I love and make the most of my life, I'm sure your policies would make many aspects of it a heck of a lot easier.”

 

 

Hillary smiled warmly. “I really hope so, too.”

 

 

Shayla turned on her chair, switched the speed to the fastest one, and was guided by Mrs. Obama and an agent to the opposite end of the outdoor space where Barack was still mingling.

 

 

“I'm glad no one heckled you today,” Shayla quipped good naturedly, craning her neck in a retreating Hillary's direction.

 

 

“There will always be someone,” Hillary called across to her. “When they go low, we go high.” Winking, she allowed agents to whisk her far and away from the crowds, certain that she wouldn't forget twenty two year old Shayla for a time to come.

 

Like so many other personal stories and friendships tucked away in her arsenal, it would be one she leaned on for strength when she felt depleted. In Shayla's defense, she would stand up.

 


End file.
